Ed Simeone reporting:
1973
was a long time ago, exactly thirty years since the events related here.
My memory for names and specific dates is a bit rusty. I am sorry to say
I can't remember the names of all the incredible group of volunteers
that staffed the Peace ship on its voyage from New Jersey to the Middle
East. But to the best of my recollection: I was working at a stereo
store in northern New Jersey and my cousin told me about a radio ship
docked on the Hudson
River that was looking for someone with electronics experience. I
visited the Peace Ship in February and was immediately struck by the
friendliness of the crew and their commitment to creating a more
peaceful world. This seemed like a great adventure, so I signed on and
within several weeks was issued Panamanian seamen's papers, even though
I couldn't have passed any legitimate test!
We had three Norwegian crewmembers. The Captain and the first and second
engineer all came out of retirement to join the crew. The Captain ran a
tabacco store and the first and second engineers worked at an auto
repair garage. One of the engineers was named Ud. The First mate was
from Canada, as was one on the DJ's (presenter), sorry no names. Four of
us were from N.J.: Roger (who had some sea experience), a Catholic
priest, Farther Charles McTague, the cook (sorry I can't remember his
name) and myself. There is one other crewmember that appears in several
photographs that I have but my mind draws a blank about his name.
Father McTague or Father Charlie as we called him, had left home at the
age of 16 and was an experienced seaman. He had a late calling to the
clergy, so he had not led a sheltered life, which made him fun to be
around. He never wore his collar at sea, so he was just another one of
the guys manning the ship. We also had a very experienced seaman for the
Philippines named Pete. And Pete swore he would never return to the
Philippines until President Marcos was deposed. Sad to think he had to
wait another 13 more years to go home. The chief transmission engineer
was from Holland, his name was Bill Danse.
Bill could fix just about anything and he kept the dual 25000 watt
Collins valve transmitters humming. I also credit him for being one of
my career mentors. We had a British DJ named Tony Allan, who had much
experience on radio. Tony would tell us stories about the history of
pirate radio. We would sit wide-eyed, listening to harrowing stories
about storms in the English Channel and the days of Radio Caroline and
Veronica. And, of course, Abie! Abie was a unique mixture of bluster
tempered by a good heart. Today we would use the word "micro
manager" to describe him. Abie wanted to do everything! Sometime I
wondered if the guy ever slept.
I am terrible with names but I remember the events of the trip quite
well. We sailed out of NY harbour in mid March, smack into a huge storm
that nearly pounded the old ship to bits. No one bothered to check the
long-term weather forecast. This storm was so big that large cruise
ships were a day late on the NY to Bermuda run. We carried 65,000
gallons of diesel fuel in the ships ballast tanks that would have
normally been filled with water. We needed this much fuel because once
we started to transmit without a license, we would be in violation of
one of the international conventions and could not put into port again.
In the heavy seas our water supplies were contaminated by the fuel,
leaking from the old gaskets on top of the ballast tanks, washing across
the lower decks and into the fresh water tanks.
I can still remember the sight and smell of diesel fuel washing over the
lower deck. Even today I become ill after a good whiff of diesel. We had
good water distillation gear on board but one essential piece of gear
was missing, an oil separator/cleaner. The fuel oil was so contaminated
with water and sludge, that our single main (and only!) Deutz engine was
always breaking down. Also the two Allis-Chalmers generators kept
failing as well, due to the unclean fuel. Without electricity we could
not make fresh water, so we drank canned fruit juice for a good part of
the voyage. Didn't bath much either because diesel fuel causes nasty
rashes.
Having never been to sea, I was really seasick for the first few days,
could not get out of my bunk. A few days out of NY, someone came to my
cabin and told me the helmsman had been on watch for 24 hours and had to
be relieved. I got up, staggered to the wheel house (I had to go outside
to get there!) astounded by the huge seas. I got to the wheelhouse to
find we had no radar, and no idea where we were (no sextant reading
could be taken because of the storm). This was well before GPS! Bill got
on the distress frequency (2.182MGz) and called the US coast guard. They
triangulated our position, did a fly over and gave us our location. The
captain decided to head towards Bermuda for repairs. He got us within a
few miles of our destination by dead reckoning. No mean feat,
considering his affection for distilled spirits.
No oil separator was brought on board in Bermuda, so our troubles
started anew as soon as we left. Abie also left us and flew on to
Europe. We sailed on to towards Gibraltar and had to limp into Cadiz,
Spain. All that waited us there was a telegram telling us to go on to
Malaga and with no money for repairs we had to leave. The police in
Madrid was detaining Abie. We left Cadiz but inadvertently pulled in
behind Franco's private yacht and followed it all the way to Malaga for
his annual Easter holiday (he was not on board). Longhairs with a 50,000
Watt transmitter follow the dictator's boat. Nice, we sailed through the
Straits and put into Malaga for repairs. We were met by machine gun
toting federates. They told us we could go into town for a short while.
No sooner did we go ashore when the captain was told to "get out of
town". He had Farther Charlie round up the crew within a few hours,
no small feat! We nearly rammed a US military radio ship in our haste to
get out of port because the engineers were so drunk, they reversed the
captain's telegraph instructions.
Abie arrived not long after cleared the harbour. He bribed a fisherman
to bring him out to the ship. We waited for Abie off the coast until our
one of our anchor chains broke. We limped on to Marseilles, France. We
still had no money, no ship's agent and no idea what we were going to do
next. We needed repairs in the worst way but without an agent in
Marseilles we were in a bad state. We received no encouragement from the
harbour master. In desperation the Captain ordered that we put up the
international distress flags. Each time we put one up they became move
severe: I am manoeuvring with difficulty; I am disabled; man overboard;
I require medical assistance; I am in distress, dangerous cargo; In need
of a tug. All these flags finally captured the attention of the captain
of a bouy tender, François Bozon.
The original Captain and first and second engineer were relieved of
their duties and sent packing while we laid up for ten days. We got a
new Captain (Bozon), new engineers and new French cook. One more repair
stop in Sicily and we made it to Tel Aviv around 10 days later. After my
stint as a helmsman, I assisted Bill in maintaining the transmitters but
my main job was to operate the Hammerlund 600 short wave radio receivers,
so we could pirate the UPS and Reuters teletype news services. We called
it "rip & read".
Abie would read the news stories as part of his on-air evening talks. At
first we began transmitting late in the morning and signed off around 10
at night. One weekend to raise donations we got the bright idea to stay
on all day and night for an "All Beatles" weekend. Not very
original but it was exciting running the station 24 hours a day. Poor
Abie, I thought he was going to have a nervous breakdown. He just
couldn't sleep worrying we might say something politically incorrect.
I left a few months after we went on the air. We had put our lives on
the line, sailing that old hulk across the stormy Atlantic. It was
exciting to be steaming around the world but it was a lonely life once
we got to our transmitting station. This we did all for $100 a month. By
July I had had enough and left the ship for an English speaking Kibbutz
in RoshPina. That's a very abbreviated version. I could write a whole
screenplay about the trip! It was some very scary and some funny moments.
Just thought you might enjoy it. |